


A Part Of Me

by CursiveBlade13



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: AU, College AU, Explicit Language, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, More to come if needed as it's updating, Past Darkshipping, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 22:58:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8346106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CursiveBlade13/pseuds/CursiveBlade13
Summary: When Marik decides to move out on his own, he encounters a multitude of problems. None so aggravating, however, as his new neighbor. But, despite the fighting between them, Marik can't help but be drawn to the man. In this change of fate, perhaps two kindred souls finally find one another, and as Marik draws closer, he may discover things he never knew.





	1. Moving In

**Author's Note:**

> So, here is my first attempt at a multi-chaptered Yugioh fic, and of course I would start out with what I'm most comfortable with; Thiefshipping. I have already posted some chapters on FF.net and am hoping that as I post them on here I'll get some motivation to continue with the next chapter. Enough babbling, I suppose. Please enjoy!

"That should be all of it. Thanks again guys for helping me out." Marik placed the box he'd been holding on the ground with a soft thump before turning around to face his two siblings with a grin.

"It really isn't a problem, Marik," Ishizu admitted as she placed her box down next Marik's, beside the one Rishid had already deposited. "I just hope that you'll be alright here. It doesn't seem like the most reliable building, and it's so far away from our house…"

"Oh, you worry too much, Ishizu! Marik's an adult, and he can take care of himself," came a low reply as Rishid stepped up to his adoptive brother and slung an easy arm over his shoulder. "Itty bitty Mar-Mar is all grown up!"

With a growl, Marik ducked out from under the arm and skipped away, glaring back at his much taller brother. "I told you not to call me that, Rishid! Like you said, I'm adult, so start treating me like one!"

"I will when you start acting like one." Rishid mock glowered at his brother.

There was a moment of stillness before two men lunged at each other playfully, wrestling around a bit until Rishid got the upper hand, trapping his brother in a light headlock. Ishizu let out a small sigh, ignoring the horseplay as she looked around the apartment once more, worry leaking into her features. "Marik…are you sure you're going to be alright? Are you sure you won't reconsider, stay with us? I mean, you know we don't mind it at all…"

It took Marik a moment to break from Rishid's hold on him, but when he finally did he gave his sister a warm smile and waved a hand between them.

"I'm positive; this is going to be good for me, I can tell. And you don't have to worry, I've checked in with the college, and things are all set. I have an interview for a job in a few days, and this place is only an hour from your guys' house. If you're that worried, you can always call me, but I'm telling you I'll be fine."

Ishizu nodded, but Marik could still see the tension in her shoulders and the worry in her icy eyes. It lasted throughout the entire visit, and even while Rishid and she departed Marik could tell that she wasn't happy. Her eyes weighed heavily on Marik, but he tried to ignore them.

Though, he couldn't blame her for her reaction - after all, worrying for him was all she knew how to do. Ever since they were children, she had always worried for him. Their father hadn't been the…kindest of people; if he wasn't throwing things around or slamming doors, he was beating Marik. Their father liked to blame Marik for his wife's death, and he would often yell such things at him, roaring his displeasure as he beat Marik with hangers, belts, and even his own hands.

Thinking about it now, Marik winced, trying to forget the hundreds of bruises that had littered his bronze skin all through his childhood. He always looked like a bruised fruit left out to rot, and he often avoided looking in mirrors, trying to forget the hell he was forced to live. Out of sight, out of mind, after all.

His siblings had tried to protect him, but their father would lash out at them instead, and Marik couldn't bear that. So he tried to take the abuse in silence, anger burning through him until it left a sickening, smoldering hole in his chest. He hated that man, and wished death on him every day. If not his father's death, then Marik wished for his own if only to end the suffering.

But blessings had come to Marik in the form of a sudden heart attack that racked through his father's chest. It had been severe, and killed his father when Marik was only eleven. The day the hospital called the house and told Marik that his father had died, he had hated the feeling of relief and security that flowed through him, even though it couldn't fill the hole left from years of anguish. But he relished in the thought that he would no longer be in pain; he would no longer have to suffer at the hands of the man who was supposed to love him unconditionally.

Rishid had been eighteen at the time, and Ishizu only fifteen. With no other family to turn to, the three had clung together in support. They had lived a stable life, nothing too extravagant, and Marik took for granted many things.

He enjoyed school, enjoyed his new life, and tried his best not to think about what suffering had led them to this simple existence. Rishid worked two to three jobs at a time, and Ishizu had taken up a few part time jobs to pay the bills. Despite the struggle to maintain financial stability, Marik's two elder siblings never once asked him to find a job, or to do anything really. They simply allowed him to enjoy the life they worked to provide for him.

It wasn't until later on, around the age of sixteen, that Marik realised why; in a way, the two were protecting him. They allowed him to be a kid in a way he hadn't been able to before, during his time with his father. They wanted Marik to have the opportunity of a nice life because their father had stolen the chance from him.

Once he had figured that out, Marik felt immensely guilty. His siblings were suffering, refusing to ask for help, all to protect Marik and provide a good life for him. And what had he done for them? Nothing.

It hadn't taken him long after that to start asking for work. But, no one would hire him and he had to watch as day after day, Rishid and Ishizu came home from work with dark circles under their eyes, only to turn around and go back out to another job.

Guilt constantly ate away at Marik as he tried to find small odd and end jobs, only earning minimum under the table pay. It hadn't been much, but when he had enough, he tried to give the money to his siblings. However, they had denied his earnings and asked him to allow them to continue to provide for him. No matter how much he begged and tried to push the money on them, they told him to keep it.

Finally, Marik had decided to take matters into his own hands. The previous year, Marik had begun applying for scholarships and loans until he had gathered enough money on his own to attend a college far enough away that he could support himself. He wanted to remove himself from his siblings' care so that they could finally enjoy their own lives without having to worry for him.

Of course, Ishizu had gotten angry with him, wondering why her brother had gone behind her back, but Marik didn't want to be a burden. This way, he could live his own life on his own two feet. He was nineteen, and it was about time for him to begin acting like it. After many arguments and raised voices, Marik's siblings finally agreed to help him move to his new apartment, reluctantly allowing him to act as he desired.

It would be difficult, Marik knew, to take care of himself when he had been financially dependent on his siblings for so long. However, he also knew that he had to do this, for their sake as well as his own.

After Rishid and Ishizu had departed, Marik had spent a great deal of time unpacking as the sun sunk sleepily towards the horizon. Muscles ached and joints cracked as Marik stretched, violet eyes raking around the small apartment.

It wasn't much, a small place with one bed, one bathroom, a small kitchenette, and a very modest living room. Small, and very empty, but it was his home now, and Marik knew he had to make the best of it.

The day faded and wore on as Marik finally went scrounging for food, managing to put together a small sandwich out of the things he had brought. It was meagre, but enough to fill up the growling in his stomach before he headed into the small bedroom.

His body was heavy as he fell face down on a worn comforter, heavy sigh pulling itself through his lips. It had been a long day, and now that he was alone with his thoughts, he couldn't deny the worry and anxiety that came with finally moving in on his own, supporting himself. The worst of it was that if he asked, Rishid and Ishizu would welcome him back with open arms, gladly taking care of him as they always had before.

But no; he wouldn't allow himself to go crawling back to his siblings. It was time they deserved lives of their own, too, without having to worry about him so much. He had to learn to take care of his own life, and he would start when dawn broke.

With these heavy thoughts weighing down on him, Marik felt sleep grasp him in its greedy clutches and he soon fell into the sea of slumber.

\-------------

The dawn broke and sunlight fractured through the old blinds, hitting Marik's tanned face with a warm diffused glow. He scrunched his face for a moment before bleary violet eyes blinked open slowly. It felt unusual as he rolled over, knowing that he was on his own for the first time in his entire life. But, he had already decided to live this life and so, he sat up rubbing at his eyes.

It took him a few minutes to fully awaken, but when he did he stumbled to the bathroom for a quick and not surprisingly cold shower. It took him longer to get ready, applying his makeup carefully before fixing his hair. When Marik was satisfied with his appearance, he exited the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before taking a seat on the old worn couch.

Today would be a long one, he knew. He had to go to the college and gather his course schedule and books required. Thankfully, he had only taken General Education classes, so the work load would be light, he hoped.

Minutes ticked by in silence as Marik took a deep breath, knowing he'd stalled for long enough. The day beckoned to him and he reluctantly rose, taking a few seconds to deposit his glass in the sink and grab his coat before grabbing his keys and locking the apartment behind him.

With a resigned sigh, tanned hands buried themselves in pockets as Marik called the elevator with his elbow, waiting as the rickety cart arrived to the fourth floor. He rode it down to the ground level and exited the building, momentarily blinded by the morning sun, lifting a hand to shield violet eyes.

The morning was warm for the beginning of September, but there was a definite chill in the air that foretold of autumn's approach. A small breeze pinched at Marik's cheeks as he jingled his keys in his pocket, approaching his sleek red motorcycle parked in front of the building.

The drive to the college only took about ten minutes, and Marik managed to get a decent parking space in front of the Student Center. With a deep sigh, he squared his shoulders and entered the building, ignoring the few looks he got from other students. His eyes looked around, unsure of exactly where to go, so he settled for the help desk situated off to the right.

It seemed to take an age and a half for Marik to get directed to where he had to go, and get his financial situation figured out. Once that was taken care of, he still had to buy his books, which only resulted in more frustration and annoyance over the incompetence of the employees.

Over three hours and many curses later, Marik stormed from the building, face contorted in anger as he tied his new school books to the back of his bike, mouth muttering in murmured cursing.

"Shouldn't take that damn long…people should have their heads pulled out of their asses! I mean, how long does it take to get a few books, and ring them up!?"

A loud growl escaped his lips, causing two girls to scurry by him, slightly frightened expressions on their face as Marik straddled his bike.

"Absolutely ridiculous…"

His bad mood persisted until he arrived back to his apartment, storming back upstairs ignoring the elevator. It wasn't until he arrived to his apartment and had thrown his books on the couch that he slumped down, head in his hands.

Marik knew that he was just adjusting, but still he'd never had to do things on his own. It was an unusual life, and he worried about every little thing. But he had to do this; he didn't have Rishid and Ishizu there to guide him anymore, and they wouldn't be there to hold his hand.

Tomorrow, classes would start, and something told Marik that things would only get more difficult from there on out.

"Perfect."


	2. First Meeting

The first week that Marik lived on his own seemed to drag on, weighing down on him until Marik was sure he was slumped over from exhaustion. Despite his hopes, his General Education classes were not as easy as he had previously thought. Within the past few days, he had already racked up two papers, and more reading than he ever cared to partake in, all due by the following week. The constant strain of collegiate academia was like a drill boring into the Egyptian's skull, as a headache set in almost daily.

And then there was work. His interview at a modest, yet high class restaurant had gone well, but unfortunately the only position they had open was a busboy. Reluctance flooded into his mind, but when Marik remembered the urgent need for income, he was forced to take the offer, knowing he couldn't be picky.

The customers were rude, and his coworkers couldn't have been more annoying, constantly prattling on about useless things. The end of every long shift left Marik with a pounding headache and a constant thrumming urge to murder all idiots in sight.

The last day of his work week, a Friday before his day off, had been particularly stressing. His co-workers had been prodding at him, asking him about his life. It wasn't that Marik was hiding anything; he just felt no need to engage in small talk to people he couldn't stand. But regardless of asking them to cease, they continued with their annoying inquires until Marik could only ignore them. Not only that, but the patrons had been extremely rude and selfish, tips ranging somewhere from less than a dollar to only a measly three.

Storming up the steps and into his apartment building, Marik let out a frustrated groan, thinking of nothing more than to get upstairs and eat something before collapsing into bed.

He stomped over to the elevator, pressing the call button over and over again in an angry haze until he noticed the out of order sign taped haphazardly to the doors. It took a moment for the words there to register in his mind but when they did, Marik could have screamed in defeat.

Annoyances had grown to anger had grown to full blown rage as the blonde practically slammed his foot down on each stair, forced to climb the four flights to his floor. By the time he arrived to his apartment, his heart was slamming away beneath his rib cage and his face was contorted in such a way that it would've most likely scared away small children and animals.

Why? Why were his nerves so frayed, and why was anger his constant companion? He never used to act like this. Had it all been the new stresses of living on his own? The transition hadn't been as smooth as he had hoped, and things only grew increasingly more difficult by the day.

With a groan, Marik's violet eyes looked around his mess of an apartment, mentally berating himself for putting off house work for so long. There were dishes and wrappers everywhere, and laundry was strewn about with no thought or place.

In short, the place was a wreck.

Despite his anger, Marik knew that he couldn't throw this tantrum forever. Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, he placed his keys down and hung his coat up before going through the apartment and clearing it of what trash he could see. As much as he hated to leave it, the laundry was too great and too much of a hassle to deal with this late. So, Marik firmly decided to leave it for the next day.

At least as he shuffled towards his room, he was assured in the fact that the apartment wasn't nearly as in a state of disarray as before.

It took all of his energy to change, the exhaustion in his mind attempting to lure him into sleeping in his clothes once again. However, a few minutes later and after donning a warm pair of pajama pants, Marik slid in between the sheets, happy as the tension seemed to relinquish from his shoulders, even if only a little bit.

Rolling onto his side, he let out a heavy sigh, the backs of his eyes burning as he rubbed at them gently.

It was hard for him, this dependence on his own skills, and running his own life. And it had already surpassed the difficulty that he had previously imagined. How Rishid and Ishizu had managed this way for so long with little to no complaints amazed Marik beyond belief. He had only lived a week of this kind of existence, and already he was fed up with every little thing.

Of course, the thought of his siblings made Marik wince as his childish thoughts rolled by once more.

He had no right to complain as he did now. Marik believed that if he kept telling himself that, then eventually he would be able to handle this amount of stress with a cool and collected demeanour. If Rishid and Ishizu could handle taking care of themselves and their little brother on their own, then Marik could certainly care for himself.

Sleep clung on to the vestiges of Marik's thoughts until they were nothing but a myriad of nonsense. His only coherent thought before the tides of sleep washed over him was that his "day off" the next morning wouldn't be so free.

\-------------

Waking up was hard, as Marik practically peeled his eyes open the next morning. His body ached and his brain moved at a sluggish pace, hindering him from movement for a few minutes.

When he could finally form a coherent thought, he sat up and stretched, allowing himself a few moments before getting up and preparing himself for the day.

A brief shower and some primping allowed him to enter the living room looking much more awake than he had before. Violet eyes looked about as a low moan trailed from his lips.

The apartment, despite his small attempts to clean up the night before, was still a mess, and with trepidation in his step, Marik gave a resolute sigh as he began to clean.

He realised within the last week just how much he took Ishizu and Rishid for granted. Marik had never really had to clean before. Sure, he helped with the dishes every once in a while, but serious cleaning? That was usually left to Ishizu. And cooking? Rishid primarily cooked for the three of them.

Marik wasn't a very good cook. Hell, the only things he could manage really were things that came in a can and only required being warmed up. In the past week alone, he had consumed more instant ramen then he ever had before.

With such pleasant thoughts swirling in his mind, Marik's morning seemed to drag on until, with a triumphant grin, he dropped to the couch. The rooms weren't spotless, but at least he didn't look like he was living in a trash heap. Now he could relax and spend the rest of the day resting-

That was until he noticed the laundry piled in the corner. With a groan, he sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. As much as he would have loved to shirk off the laundry, and save it for another day, he hadn't done laundry since moving in and his clean clothes were dwindling.

Marik got up slowly, grabbing his detergent before tossing it in the almost overflowing basket. He then grabbed the basket and left his apartment, heading toward the elevator.

The landlord had said the laundry room was located in the basement. It was the button Marik pressed as he rode the elevator down. Once there, he followed signs that lead him to his destination. The sounds of machines running guided him until he stood in the doorway.

The room itself was larger than Marik had thought, with washers and dryers lining the walls. Small windows set high up on the walls let a small amount of light filter in, giving the place a diffused sort of glow, besides the florescents that buzzed above.

Much to his surprise, Marik looked around spotting another tenant in the room. He appeared alone, seated on a rickety chair reading a rather large book. The man didn't look up at Marik's approach, nor did he make any motion to greet him.

Agitation set into his features, but Marik tried not to let it get to him as he chose a machine close to the man's. Loading his clothing in, he couldn't help as his gaze flicked to the stranger.

He was handsome, Marik had to admit, with his pale skin and long white hair. He way his hands moved to flip the pages of his book were fluid, like a dancer's. His brown eyes were focused on the print before him, paying no mind to Marik in the slightest.

Handsome, but rude.

Once he put some money in the machine and set it to start, Marik moved over to another chair across the way from the white haired man and folded his arms, fidgeting slightly.

Still, the man did not move or greet Marik.

_Then I guess I'll just have to make the first move._

"Uh, hello there. It's nice to meet you. I'm Marik Ishtar, and I just recently moved into apartment 401."

There; a simple, yet polite greeting. The man had to respond to that…it was courteous right? All Marik really wanted was to make some sort of friendly connection with some of the tenants in this building. He hadn't so much as seen any of them, let alone spoken to them in the past week. This could be a good opportunity to change that.

"So…what's your name?"

Silence once again greeted Marik's efforts as the man steadfastly ignored him, flipping a page in his book as his eyes focused there.

Refusing to let this man win, Marik stared at him with a flinty gaze, arms tightening in their crossed state as he waited for some response from the other man. Minutes stretched onward with no sound but that of the machines running.

When there was a loud buzz throughout the room, Marik practically jumped out of his skin before he noticed that the man stood and pulled his clothes from the dryer, switching over the rest of his load into that same washer. He then resumed his seat and picked up his book, acting as if nothing had happened.

Agitation escalated to full blown anger as Marik stood, hands balled into fists. What the hell was this guy's problem? Marik was just trying to be polite, and this guy seemed to be ignoring him to intentionally get on his nerves.

Storming over to his own laundry, Marik switched over his own load and turned on the dryer before going to stand right above the man, brows furrowing over livid violet eyes.

"Are you deaf, or are you intentionally being an asshole for no reason? I greeted you, and most commonly, it's polite to give a greeting back."

Again, the man sat in silence, but Marik swore he saw the edge of his mouth perk up into a smile.

Leaning down, Marik let out a frustrated grunt and placed his hands on his hips.

"Fine then. I'll just call you asshole then. How's that sound?"

As expected, there was no answer and Marik's frown deepened. He straightened up with a snort and crossed back to his seat, dropping down into it heavily.

It figured that out of all of the tenants in the building, Marik had to try to make friends with the most antisocial and downright insufferable one of them all. And if that wasn't enough, this guy seemed to enjoy getting on Marik's nerves. Who even did that?

After what seemed an eternity, Marik's clothes finished their cycle and he pulled them from the dryer and into his basket. The silence in the room was stifling, and Marik figured he'd much rather fold the clothes in his apartment.

Grabbing his things, he balanced the basket on his hip as he began to leave the room. Out of some twisted pang of payback, Marik gave a smirk and called over his shoulder, "Guess I'll see you around then, asshole."

He would have laughed, happy to get a jab in at the man, if not for the dark chuckle that slithered up behind him, practically tantalizing at his ear.

"As I will see you, Ishtar."

Marik couldn't seem to storm out of there fast enough as dark laughter followed him all the way to the elevator, ringing in his mind long after the sound had vanished.


	3. Discovery

Another week passed by before Marik knew that it had. The days blurred together in a jumbled mess of confusion and agitation. Every day seemed to bring new hardships and Marik knew that things would only get harder.

Work had only grown more stressful, with his workmates growing increasingly nosier by the day. However, he just gritted his teeth and kept his mouth shut. This was part of living on his own and having to deal with "adult issues".

And if work wasn't bad enough, then college would be the death of him.

Between the assignments and the amount of idiotic people in his classes, Marik was beginning to drown.

The weekend loomed, and with the promise of Friday and Saturday off, the blonde was looking forward to relaxing; homework be damned. However, his professor had different ideas.

As he gathered his books on Friday afternoon, seconds from rushing from the room, the low voice of his teacher called to him.

"Mr. Ishtar, could you stay a moment?"

He glared at the older man, pausing a moment as he debated with himself to run or stay. In the end, he let loose a heavy sigh and approached the man, crossing his arms tightly.

"What?"

Marik didn't care that he was rude to the man, only wanting to get things finished quickly so that he could hustle home all the faster. This class bored the Egyptian to death and he couldn't comprehend the lessons well at all. His motivation was to get in, finish, and get out.

And being polite to harebrained old men did not fit into that agenda.

However, the professor didn't seem fazed by the man's anger, only blinking a few times before reaching to pull a paper from his briefcase.

"Mr. Ishtar, I've noticed that in the past few weeks, you've seemed...distant in class. You never participate, and I'm sorry to say that your grades have reflected this. You seem to be struggling and I in no way want to fail you."

Marik began to drown the man out as his foot tapped impatiently. What did it matter that he was quiet in class? He didn't have friends here, and there was no reason to try and provide answers when others seemed to do it instead. However, before Marik could completely lose himself, the professor's words brought him back to the situation in an abrupt, rough way.

"I've spoken to your other professors and they've said the same thing; no participation, and poor grades. Therefore, as a help to you, I've signed you up to receive assistance from a tutor."

Violet eyes aflame with rage shot up to bore into the professor, tanned hands shaking as Marik struggled to find the appropriate words.

"You've got to be joking! I don't need a damn tutor! I'm fine! Yeah, my grades are a bit low, but they're bound to pick up! It's still the beginning of the year! You can't expect me to know everything about this! I know that I can do the assignments and-"

"It's not just your grades," the professor cut in with a stern expression. "It is your attitude and lack of interaction with anyone in your classes."

The older man let out a sigh, looking with sad eyes as if his words truly pained him and he truly care about the boy standing before him.

As if.

Marik could have struck him down right then and there for such an act, but he knew that doing that would only lead to repercussions far worse than tutoring in the future. He could not afford to be expelled, nor could he afford to be a dropout, failing every one of his classes.

But that didn't mean that he needed a damn tutor! His train of thought was interrupted however when the professor spoke again.

"I want you to do well, and so I think this tutor will be good for you."

The man handed him the paper and Marik only glanced at it before allowing the thing to crumple in his fist. With a defiant glint in his eyes, Marik's glare only worsened as he took a breath to snarl back.

"And if I refuse this 'help'?"

The professor was yet again unfazed by the anger and venom in Marik's voice and kept his face as flat as his eyes while he replied.

"Then I will not pass you. And you will fail my class."

Marik's eyes widened at the obvious threat and he tried to reply, jaw gaping in anger, making him unable to respond.

How dare he? How dare he threaten that!?

Shaking in rage, Marik turned to storm off, trying to ignore his professor as he called after him.

"The information is on that sheet. You'll meet your tutor on Monday evening! Make sure you're there!"

Growls roiled out from Marik's chest as he stormed to his bike, riding home in a seething rage. What kind of stunt was that? Having to see a tutor or Marik would be failed? That was borderline blackmail!

Unpleasant thoughts and curses rolled about within Marik as he arrived at his apartment building only to once again find that the elevator had broken. He threw up his hands and let out a frustrated groan, moving to climb the stairs.

What usually only took a few minutes seemed to take an age as Marik finally reached his landing, storming into his apartment and collapsing on the couch. He slouched off his jacket, catching the sight of paper sticking from his pocket. He picked it out and felt his already in place grimace darken even further.

It was the tutor information his professor had forced on him. The meeting was to take place on Monday evening, at six in the library. The name of the tutor wasn't listed, but Marik figured it didn't matter. Whoever it was, this whole thing would just be a huge pain in the ass.

Marik tossed the paper down on the coffee table with a click of his tongue, going to the kitchen to search for food. There wasn't much in, and he settled with an apple and a glass of water. Still it was better than nothing.

As he moved to the bedroom Marik couldn't help but think that despite his awful day, and how things had turned out, there was a small amount of satisfaction in knowing that he didn't have to work tonight, and that he could relax.

That was, until he saw the pile of laundry in the corner of his room. Marik repressed another moan as he felt his shoulders slump, any happiness in his mind vanishing with the thought of sitting the dank basement laundry room for an hour or more while he waited for his clothes. It was the last thing he wanted to do. But...

Marik couldn't forget the white haired stranger he had met on his last trip to the laundry room. True, the guy had been a total asshole, and his behaviour had been downright insufferable...but there was something intriguing in trying to crack his blasé facade. And seeing how Marik still hadn't met or befriended any of the other tenants in the building, he was determined to befriend the only one he had met.

Which meant Mr. Asshole.

Still it was a long shot. The pale stranger hadn't been very forthcoming and they hadn't even had a real conversation. Not to mention just the thought of him smirking at Marik's anger made the tanned man shake in contained fury. Misconstrued thoughts of conversations and friendship vanished as Marik gritted his teeth. The pale man probably would laugh at the Egyptian again, ignoring him, and poking fun at him with that sardonic tone he had only gotten a small taste of before...

Marik shook his head as he grabbed his clothes and detergent. It was difficult but he tried to calm his thoughts that rose up again in a cacophonous frenzy of agitation, like the buzzing of a fly burrowing into his ear.

_That asshole may not even be in there and all these worries could be pointless...I can't go tiptoeing around doing my damn laundry. If he is there, then I'll deal with him the best way I can._

With a firm nod, Marik slowly made his way down the stairs, the elevator still broken, until he arrived to the basement, a slight amount of dread and unrest pooling in his stomach as he heard the rumble of machines filtering down the hall.

 _It could always be another tenant. No need to get so anxious,_ Marik tried to reason with himself, lips pulled thin as he slowly made his way to the room. However, all thoughts of reason flitted away as he turned the corner and gazed in.

Once again, the white haired man sat in the room, book in hand, seated in the same seat he was before, same carefree pose. If it weren't for the different clothes the pale man wore, Marik would have sworn that he had never left.

And just like the week before, he ignored Marik as the Egyptian edged closer, brown eyes glued to the book in his hands.

Marik could feel a scowl begin to take over his features and he opened his mouth to go off on the guy, but he stopped himself.

_I refuse to allow this guy to keep riling me up, especially when he's not even doing anything! I will not be the one to crack this time, no!_

With uncharacteristic silence, Marik quickly set his clothes to wash, taking the same seat across from the stranger as he had before. And like before, he ignored Marik completely, brown eyes scaling the page of his book.

However, the Egyptian feigned nonchalance, picking at his nails as he attempted to keep his composure. If this was the game this asshole wanted to play, then so be it.

Though, despite his anger with the man before him and the agitation of being ignored, Marik couldn't help his eyes from flicking upward again to gaze at the man. Marik hated to admit it, but he really was handsome, with his willowy body, and gentle white locks-

The Egyptian tore his gaze away sharply, cringing internally. _What the hell am I thinking? He's an asshole, and I'm not even gay anyway! So where are these stupid thoughts coming from? It's got to be stress or something. Still…_

Marik fidgeted, hands twisting in his lap as he jiggled his leg slightly.

_It can't hurt to look one more time, right? I mean, just to look at his stupid face so I can accurately make fun of it._

Steeling himself, Marik took a deep breath and lifted his eyes once more…

Only to find a dark brown gaze staring at him curiously.

He gasped and cursed the fact that it came out as a squeak. Marik berated himself mentally for getting caught and twisted his hands in his lap as his teeth sank into his lip.

A heavy silence fell between the two men, only marred by the occasional rumble of the machines. However, it soon shattered as Marik heard a familiar sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

The stranger was laughing again.

It was low, and muffled as he tried to contain it, but Marik could hear it full well in the small distance. The longer Marik waited, fidgeting, the louder the laughter seemed to get until it was finally full, booming laughter around them.

The tanned man growled and slammed his fists down on the chair, glaring up with sharp eyes, sick of the stranger's teasing.

"Alright, that's it. What the fuck is your problem? You ignore me when I come in here, then you think it's okay to laugh at me, and tease me? You don't even know me!"

The laughter died down quickly as the white haired man closed his book and set it in his lap. He watched Marik for a careful moment, cocking his head before his lips twisted into a sarcastic and amused smile.

"Oh, but you told me who you are, remember? Your name is Marik Ishtar, and you recently moved into apartment 401."

Marik was a bit shell-shocked, not only at the fact that the man was speaking with him, but that he remembered such things that Marik had only mentioned once before, a week earlier.

Either way, Marik took a small victory in the fact that he had gotten the man to speak. Sure, Marik had been the one to crack first, but he figured it all panned out in the end.

"You either have the best memory out of anyone I know," Marik replied, crossing his arms as he frowned gently. "Or you're a stalker. From what I've seen of you, and from what I know of your…personality, I doubt stalking would be a far reach."

He smirked, happy to get another jab in, but a stab of disappointment cut through him when he realised the stranger didn't seem upset, or even seem to care about Marik's insults.

Before Marik could open his mouth to try again, one of the machines buzzed, making him jump. But the pale man only stood and took care of his loads before settling back down in the chair, seemingly nonchalant.

 _How is that asshole so…unbothered by anything? It's like he's a robot! A cynical, sarcastic, mean, evil robot,_ Marik thought angrily, his brow furrowing heavily over his eyes.

He picked up his book, going to open it once again before he paused, looking up to Marik once again wearing a quizzical expression.

"Do you mind if I go back to reading my book? Or are you still going to look at me like an idiot? To be honest, it's a bit bothersome."

The blonde sat stunned for a moment before his anger returned in full force. He folded his arms tightly against his body, pouting his lips a bit.

"I'm not staring!"

He tore his gaze away, scoffing before shaking his head and glaring back to the stranger with a furrowed brow.

"And don't you fucking brush me off like it's nothing! You know my name and where I live, and you can't even extend that same information back? That's hardly fair, asshole! I know you can talk, so talk to me!"

The pale stranger paused a moment before he closed his book again, setting it on his lap. He crossed his own arms, mirroring Marik's pose as he cocked a brow.

"Well, you're rather bratty aren't you?"

Marik growled a moment, clicking his tongue as he leaned forward, glaring sharply at the man across from him.

"I'm not a brat! You're just a jerk! A stupid jerk who won't even tell me his name! So, that makes you a stupid, secretive jerk, which is the worst!"

He was aware that his comebacks weren't the best, but Marik couldn't honestly think of anything better to say, especially with the curious expression the white haired man was giving him.

The two of them fell into another bout of silence, Marik glaring at the paler man while he stared back with curiosity in his eyes.

In the end, Marik cracked yet again.

"Alright, just tell me your name. It's not like it's a big secret or anything! C'mon! We live in the same building, after all! You owe it to me as a fellow tenant!"

"Oh, do I now?" The white haired man chuckled again, the sound still very audible under the machines' noises. "And what, pray tell, says that I must tell you anything? As I see it, I don't have to tell you anything. I didn't even ask for your name. You're the one who gave it willingly."

The tanned man gaped at the white haired man's smirk and words, trying to find an appropriate response but failing. It was true; Marik had offered the information without being asked for it…and the other man really didn't have to do anything.

But…Marik felt the burn of curiosity deep within him, annoying him as it made its way slowly through him. He knew that he wouldn't be able to rest easy if he didn't at least find out the man's name.

"Alright, fine. I suppose…you are right. I did offer that information without you asking for it, and it's true you don't have to give it back. But, well, we _are_ living in the same building. So wouldn't it be easier to, I don't know…get along if we can at least call each other by our names? I mean, unless you want me to go around calling you asshole all of the time," Marik smirked, the edges of his tanned mouth practically curling.

The white haired man's own smirk dropped a little as his dark eyes bored into Marik, causing the Egyptian to shiver for a moment from their intensity.

Silence once again spanned the distance between them and Marik felt the small amount of hope he had to make friends with the man vanish. However, the pale man surprised Marik as he sighed and rubbed at his temple.

"I'm Bakura; Bakura Touzoku."

Marik sat stunned for a moment before letting out a lung full of air he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

He had done it! Marik had gotten the pale tenant to crack! It took much more effort than he had been anticipating…but he had done it! Perhaps…Marik hoped that he could finally make a friend in this new life he had built for himself.

A small crescendo of victory rose up in the Egyptian as he smirked at the man across from him, Bakura.

"Well now, was that so hard?"

Bakura scoffed and rolled his eyes, grabbing for his book again.

"Yes, yes, Ishtar. You got my name. Congratulations to you. Now can I please get back to my bloody book? Unlike you, I come here to do my laundry in peace and quiet."

"But, Bakura," Marik quickly interjected, somewhat pleased with the way the man's name rolled off of his tongue. "We've only just gotten to know each other. I'm new in the building, so you should talk to me! Tell me about yourself! I mean, I know you can talk now!"

Flat brown eyes looked at Marik as Bakura sighed, snapping his book closed once again.

"As fun as that sounds, I think I'll pass."

Marik's brow furrowed and he crossed his arms tightly in front of him again, lips pouting with a sigh. However, he had gotten Bakura to crack once already. If he kept pushing…

As he opened his mouth to do just that, both his machine and Bakura's buzzed, signaling that their laundry was finished its last drying cycle.

Both men stood, taking care of their respective piles of clothing. Marik's had finished, so he gathered his basket of clothes and detergent, watching Bakura from the corner of his vision. Expecting the white haired man to reseat himself, waiting for another load, he stood with his large basket of clothes balanced in his arms.

"Are…you all finished here?" Marik asked the question, cursing his tentative tone. He was surprised however when Bakura glanced at him, answering without effort.

"Yes; is that alright with you?"

Marik rolled his eyes at the sarcasm, but lifted his own basket and took a few steps before looking back to Bakura.

"Well then…why don't we walk up together? Since the elevator is still broken. I mean, I don't know what floor you live on, but I'm on four so…we can at least walk a few flights, right?"

The white haired man stared at Marik for a few terse moments, indiscernible emotions passing over his eyes before he sighed.

"Fine, I suppose that would do. Not like I have much choice, do I? There's only one set of stairs, and you'd probably follow me up even if I said no."

Marik smirked once again, beckoning the man with a jerk of his head before he began to move out of the room and towards the stairs. Bakura followed him, and there once again existed a silence between them. Marik was determined to break it though, and before they had even arrived to the first floor, he began to question Bakura again.

"So…are you going to tell me anything about you?"

Bakura gave a humourless chuckle, shaking his head before looking up at Marik who had taken the lead on the stairs.

"And here I thought I had told you something, Ishtar. You know my name after all, and I know yours. Seems a fair trade off."

Marik sighed, turning the corner as they moved up towards the second floor.

"Not really. I mean, I could have picked anyone else in the building to talk to! You should consider yourself lucky that I chose you!"

Marik silently kept to himself that he hadn't met anyone else, and that was the only reason he had chosen to attempt befriending the man behind him. That, and it was amusing to try cracking Bakura's façade.

"How lucky for me," came the white haired man's response, flat and dull as they rounded to the third floor.

The Egyptian scowled, a little put off that Bakura seemed so unwilling to at least pretend to have a civil conversation with him. After all, even though they had gotten off to a somewhat rocky beginning, it wasn't as if Marik had full on yelled at the man.

When they arrived to the fourth floor, Marik stopped on the landing, juggling his basket for a moment before turning back to the white haired man, face somewhat softer with agitation and disappointment.

"Well…this is my stop. I suppose, maybe…I'll see you around?"

Bakura didn't answer him and Marik sighed, moving to the door that separated the stairs from his floor.

_I was being foolish. How could I think this…this insufferable sarcastic asshole could ever be friends with me? We are like oil and water. Think, Marik…_

The blonde moved into the hall, digging around his pockets carefully in search of his keys as his thoughts only proceeded to get darker and darker. Yet, when Marik heard the stairwell door open, and his violet eyes flicked over to see Bakura standing there, his thoughts cleared in a flash.

"Bakura? What are you doing? Did you forget to leave off with some sort of sarcastic, snarky reply?"

The pale man rolled his eyes before moving into the hall, digging around his own pockets.

"No, I didn't. Though, if that's what you really want, I'd be more than happy to oblige."

A white brow cocked at Marik and he scoffed, finally extracting his keys. But, an odd thought struck him. Why would Bakura be on this floor, digging around in his pockets?

Marik set his basket down, turning to face Bakura again with wide eyes. There stood the man, across the hall at apartment 400, turning his key in the lock.

The Egyptian couldn't believe it…they were neighbors? Marik had been living in this apartment for two weeks, and didn't know that Bakura lived less than fifty feet away?

But, to be fair, it's not like the man is very open with information…

While Marik stood there, engrossed in his own thoughts and the strange possibility of perhaps really kindling a friendship with Bakura, the pale man smirked, grabbing his laundry.

"Well, glad to see you're as scatterbrained as I thought. Goodbye, Ishtar."

And with that, Bakura vanished into his apartment, the door closing softly behind him. Marik remained still for a moment more before grabbing his own basket and letting himself into his apartment.

Things were definitely going to get much more interesting from now on.


	4. Working

The next day, Marik woke up much cheerier than he had since he had moved into his apartment. He sat up and stretched, his long arms winding above his head before he relaxed.

The day was shaping up to be rather good already. The apartment was clean, Marik's laundry had been finished, he was off of work…

And he had gotten the asshole tenant to give up his name.

Bakura.

Score one for Marik.

A smile remained on his lips as the man got up, preparing things for the day. He showered, got dressed, and made his way to the kitchen to make some food. However, there was nothing in and Marik frowned for only a moment. He could go shopping, no problem.

This newfound glee over his small victory was the blonde's fuel as he gathered his wallet, coat, and keys. He didn't even gripe about the elevator still being broken as he climbed down the stairs and out to the street.

Any warmth in the air had been blown away as the chill of autumn took its natural place. Despite the sun's rays that speared from the sky, the air refused to allow warmth to permeate its chilled depths.

Still, Marik refused to let the weather get him down. For the first time in what seemed an age, things were going his way.

The ride to the store was bitter cold, but nothing could ruin his mood. He would spend today doing absolutely nothing; no cleaning, no laundry, no homework, no working.

A nice simple lazy day. He deserved it after all, with what he had been dealing with.

Once to the store, Marik got off his bike and moved side, happy to escape the bitter wind that had kicked up. He grabbed a small basket and hummed to himself as he moved around the aisles. Picking up cheap but filling food, Marik lost himself in the simple act of shopping. It was nice to do something that he didn't have to devote his entire mind to, and something that wasn't stressing. A nice simple outing, without any interrup–

"Marik, I thought that was you!"

Marik cringed at the voice and turned to see the source bouncing towards him. Jounouchi, one of his coworkers at the restaurant was grinning and moved to the unhappy Marik.

"I didn't know you lived around here. Atem and I do too!"

The Egyptian held in a groan as the other mentioned man came into view. Spikey hair and a warm smile greeted Marik as Atem came to Jounouchi's side.

"Nice to see you out, Marik," Atem said politely. It was that polite behaviour that had landed Atem the position of head waiter as opposed to the simple busboys that Jounouchi and Marik were.

But Marik wasn't charmed so easily. He narrowed his eyes slightly at the two men, trying to keep himself calm on his day of rest.

"Nice to see you guys too. If you'll excuse me though, I've got to finish my shopping and enjoy the rest of my day off."

Jounouchi's brow furrowed as he cocked his head.

"Day off? I thought that you worked with us tonight. At least I was pretty sure. I just checked the schedule, too…"

Marik's heart dropped as he glared at the blonde. But Jounouchi didn't notice as he pulled out his phone and started scrolling through something. In a few seconds, he turned the screen so Marik could see the spreadsheet like schedule. Right there, printed out clear as day was Marik's name, scheduled to work that evening at 4 o'clock.

"No…no! I was supposed to be off," Marik said, tone bordering on a whine as he let his basket thump against his leg.

"I wouldn't ever be sure of what you're working. The boss tends to change the schedule quite often throughout the week," Atem said, joining the group of furrowed browed men. "Don't you get the work emails?"

The Egyptian's glare flipped to Atem as he let out a small grunt.

"No, I didn't. I don't have a laptop, and my phone is about as far away from a smartphone as you can get."

But Atem, like Jounouchi, didn't seem bothered by Marik's obviously rude tone. He only smiled and shook his head, spikes swaying with each motion like a lively starfish atop his head. The mental image made Marik crack a small smile but he reigned it in before either asked about it.

"Well then I suggest you try to check as often as possible. Use the library computers if you must."

Jounouchi sighed and stored his phone away in his back pocket before giving Marik a sympathetic smile.

"Sorry dude, didn't mean to put a damper on your day. But hey, at least Atem and I will be there. That's good, right? Working with friends!"

Violet eyes deadpanned towards the blonde, silence resting heavily between them. Jounouchi cleared his throat and smiled before taking a small step back.

"Well…I guess we'll leave you alone then. See you tonight!"

He waved and walked off with Atem, leaving Marik tight jawed and trembling. As if it weren't bad enough that his entire day was now ruined, but he had to interact with those idiots.

Turning on his heel, the boy finished his shopping quickly and made his way back out to his bike. The wind greeted him harshly as he drove home, thoughts drifting as his hands clenched tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

Why was it that people like Atem and Jounouchi annoyed him so badly, but a clear asshole like Bakura Touzoku only made him more interested?

Gods, he was truly a disturbed and fucked up individual. Why couldn't he be normal enough to make annoying friends like his coworkers? They were normal. Well, as normal as one could be in Domino. Bakura on the other hand was strange and abnormal, a far cry from someone Marik should have looked to make friends with. And yet, here he stood, wanting to be friends with Bakura, and wanting to stay far away from the idiotic Atem and Jounouchi.

In no time at all, he was back at the apartment building, bags in hand as he made his way up the stairs. Violet eyes snuck a peek at apartment 400, wondering what the pale asshole was up to. But he sighed and hurried into his own apartment to put away the groceries before his thoughts venture to Bakura once again.

He had a few hours before he had to be to work, and so Marik spent it on the couch, trying to work through some homework as he stuffed his face full of instant noodles.

Though he still hated school, the professor that had blackmailed him into tutoring was like a hawk, ensuring that Marik couldn't slack off. He hadn't met his tutor yet, as the appointment wasn't until Monday, but he knew that he had to show that he wasn't stupid. After all, though he hated school and couldn't understand a lot of the classes, he wasn't stupid. He wasn't…

But all he could hear was his father's voice, yelling at him to stay out of his way, and how stupid he was. And Marik, as a child, believed him. After all, parents were supposed to tell their children the truth. And it wasn't as though his mother was around to give Marik and his siblings the love they needed. He had grown up with hatred and abuse. He had to learn, to live to prove his father wrong.

The thought made Marik grit his teeth, pen piercing through his paper as his hand shook. No, he was doing this for himself. He could live on his own, and take care of himself. His ass of a father had no bearing in his life anymore. The thoughts gave him a new wave of determination as he began to scribble some notes.

The hours slipped away as Marik muddled through his work. But soon enough the time bore down on him and he sighed before showering and getting ready for work.

It was going to be one hell of a night.

\-------------

Like with most Saturday nights, the restaurant was crowded and of course, busy. Marik was on his feet all night, doing his utmost not to bite people's heads off. From asshole customers to his nosy as ever coworkers, he was sure that he would lose control once. But miraculously he did not.

Someone really should have given him a medal for such an accomplishment.

Finally, the night dwindled down and Marik praised every god there was that it was over. The closing group of people began to wash down tables and put the chairs up to sweep along the floors. Marik kept his head down and hoped beyond hope that people wouldn't try to talk to him, and he could just do his job and go home –

"So, heard you ran into Jou and Atem today."

Marik cringed and looked up at Honda who leaned against his own broom. One of the other busboys that worked at the restaurant and one of Atem and Jounouchi's friends, he was the most bearable out of the group. But still annoying.

Marik nodded in answer to his question and continued sweeping, hoping that was the end of it. But of course not, it never was. Because the universe hated him.

The aforementioned blonde came over and slung an easy arm over Marik's shoulders, which made the boy flinch.

"Yeah we ran into each other at the supermarket by our place earlier today. By the way, I was wondering where do you live Marik? There aren't many places to shop around that area, so you have to live pretty close."

The Egyptian took a deep breath and shrugged the arm, trying not to seem completely rude but not caring. He leaned down to grab the dustpan and gather the dust pile below them.

"I live in East Pallow Apartments."

"No way! That's where Atem and I live! Atem, c'mere! You won't believe it! Marik lives in our building!"

Marik's hands stilled as he sent a silent prayer of thanks that the two men hadn't discovered this earlier. But now, there would be nonstop questions, which made him rescind his prayer of thanks quicker than a flash.

As he stood with the pan full, Jounouchi grinning at him, Atem approached the group, smiling and carrying an arm full of menus.

"Which floor are you on," Jounouchi asked, more like an excited puppy with a new bone than a damn near twenty year old. He always reminded Marik of a puppy though, with his beyond puffy hair and cheerful disposition. Plus the way he clung to his friends like a pet to it's master made Marik sick. Who did that?

"Fourth," Marik finally replied, short and stiff as he dumped the dust and started sweeping up another pile. If he showed no interest, then perhaps they would get the hint and leave him alone.

"Damn shame. Atem and I live down on the first. It's a hell of a lot more convenient with the way the elevator keeps breaking down. Though, I imagine living up there you get a decent work out every day!"

He chuckled at his own joke but when no one joined in, his laughter bubbled off until he cleared his throat. His eyes lit up however as a thought struck him.

"Wait…isn't the fourth floor where Bakura lives?"

Marik's actions halted, ears perking up as he actually began to pay attention to the blonde's words. He turned around, surprised to see the normally calm and polite Atem's face turned sour.

"Does he still live there? I thought he moved away after…"

Honda's sentence trailed off but Jounouchi, seeming to understand his unspoken words, shook his head.

"No no, he's still there. I haven't seen him in ages though."

Marik stood up and folded his arms, trying to feign nonchalance, but he was intrigued and curious about Bakura. And these guys could give him the answers he sought.

"You guys know Bakura?"

The three turned to face him, silence spread through the empty dining room. They all were surprised that, for once, Marik was attempting to contribute to the conversation. Honda smiled, as did Atem, but with the way Jounouchi grinned, the Egyptian was confident he would start bouncing up and down at any second. He nodded and answered Marik's question with excitement.

"Yeah. We all used to be in school together. Ended up moving into the same apartment building by chance. Except Honda here who decided it'd be better to get away from us idiots," Jounouchi said with a grin, nudging his friend's shoulder. As Honda rolled his eyes, Marik tried to keep his face calm. He wanted to snap at them to stop their incessant idiocy, but he had to remain calm. He couldn't blow up like he wanted to, or else he would ruin the chance he had to get more information on Bakura.

"You don't seem to like him, Atem," Marik said, turning his attention to the man not currently involved in the immature shoving match. Turning to face Marik for a moment, a strange emotion flitted over his eyes before he smiled and shook his head.

"I like him just fine, but Bakura and I have…a sort of sordid past. We're not really friends as we once were, nor will I think we will ever be again."

Marik wanted to ask more but something in Atem's tone told him that the topic was closed for now. He sighed and turned to Jounouchi who had Honda in a headlock now.

"What's he like? Bakura, I mean. I met him a few times and he seemed sort of closed off. Also, kind of an…"

Marik trailed off, wondering if it would be prudent of him to mention Bakura's behaviour, irksome and annoying. After all, these guys had once been his friends. But before he could amend his words, Honda broke free of the headlock to answer.

"An asshole? He is," Honda said with a chuckle. "But he wasn't always, nor was he always closed off. Used to be one of the most outspoken kids in class. Was never kind but he was certainly nicer than he is now. At least I assume. If he's anything like he was in high school now, then I feel sorry for you having met him."

Marik cocked his head, wondering what had happened to turn the once normal boy into the now sullen asshole. But he stopped the thought short and mentally cursed at himself. He had no right to try and figure out the complexity that was Bakura Touzoku. He has his own life to live, with its own problems. School, work and idiots in it, family, and of course just trying to live.

Yes, he had his own issues. However, despite what he thought, he had a funny feeling that Bakura would worm his way into being one of those problems.

\-------------

The drive home was longer than normal as he drove carefully, head invested in thoughts and imaginings.

Was it worth continuing to try and talk with the albino man? So far Marik hadn't learned much about it except that he hadn't always been the way he was now. Something had to have happened…

Marik shook his head and growled as he pulled up to the apartment. What did it matter anyway? At first, Marik had only continued to attempt to talk to the other for the sake of making friends with the only person he'd interacted with in the apartment building. But if that was the excuse, couldn't he very well make friends with Atem or Jounouchi? After all, those two would probably jump at the idea of making friends with the Egyptian, and he now knew that they lived in the same building.

But for some reason…they weren't the type of people Marik could see himself hanging around. Bakura on the other hand…

He intrigued Marik, and he wanted to see more from the other. If nothing else, he wanted to find out what had changed Bakura, and figure out why it was that he couldn't seem to stay away from the white haired man.

But that was a mental argument he could have with himself another time. His body weighed with exhaustion and he stumbled into the building and up each agonising step. Each breath let a curse leak out, leaning heavily on the handle until he finally arrived to his floor. As he unlocked his apartment door, he only got one step inside before the door behind him slammed open and he turned to see the object of his thoughts.

Marik's eyes widened as Bakura looked at him. He couldn't help but noticed that the white hair that was normally constructed into careful chunks and spikes was disheveled and sticking up more wildly than ever. His clothes were crumpled and creased as if he had slept in them. It looked as if he had just rolled out of bed to throw on the first thing he could find.

As their eyes met, the blonde expected some sort of snarky comment or a comment to insult Marik, but Bakura spared him only the one glance before he hurried to the steps and out of the other's sight.

He stayed still in the threshold, unable to move until a full minute had passed. Only then did he move inside, moving into the bedroom to flop on the mattress fully clothed. But a though struck him as he looked to the clock. Marik pursed his lips and wondering where in all the gods' names that man was heading at nearly midnight in such a hurry.

The more frightening thought that hit him was…why did he care so much about Bakura's life? And why couldn't he get the other out of his head…


	5. Anger

The rest of Marik's weekend sped by. Before he knew it, Monday loomed above him and with it, the meeting with his tutor.

He had been dreading this day since his devil of a professor had forced it on him. Marik was still convinced that he didn't need a tutor but his hands were bound. It was either put up with this or be failed.

Neither was an option that seemed very appealing but hey, lesser or two evils and all that.

With that pleasant thought in mind he found himself in the college library Monday evening 5:45 sharp. Gods forbid he showed up late and his tutor reported such problems to his professor. He really didn't feel like dealing with the man atop dealing with whatever this stuck up tutor was going to toss at him.

Once at the library, he took a few minutes to look around. He had only come in the library before to use the computers for email and papers. But he had never stepped foot into the study cubbies and private tutoring rooms.

As he approached the desk, he pulled out the by now crumpled and nearly ruined paper his professor had forced upon him.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be meeting a tutor here at six? Uh, I don't know their name though..."

The woman looked up from whatever she was clacking away at on her computer and peered him down over half-moon spectacles. Her eyes were sharp, full of disbelief and annoyance as her lips pinched in a pursed form.

Silence stretched between them until Marik placed the paper on the desk with a show of truth. Why in all the gods' names would he lie about seeing a damn tutor? It wasn't like he even wanted to!

She took the paper, quick as a flash, looking over it for another silent minute before turning her view back to Marik.

"I don't remember any of the tutors being scheduled for use at six. Professor Graves sent you? And I thought that all the tutors were taken for this semester already…"

Marik stood there for a moment before he growled and tried to keep his hands from trembling as he placed them flat on the counter before him.

"Look lady, I –"

"Marik? Are you Marik Ishtar?"

Both the librarian and Marik's gazes swung around. Violet eyes fell onto a brunette girl about his age in a simple sweater and jeans. She had a kind smile and warm eyes that made Marik want to roll his eyes.

Of course he would get stuck with a happy girl like her.

"That's me," he finally answered, taking satisfaction in smirking at the now frowning librarian. He guessed she didn't like being proven wrong.

"You're this _boy's_ tutor, Anzu?"

Marik growled at her calling him a boy but said nothing as the girl, Anzu smiled and nodded.

"Professor Graves asked me to take him on. Said that he really needed the help. Speaking of," she said, turning her attentions and smiles to Marik.

"It's nice to meet you, Marik. I'm Anzu, Anzu Mazaki. Should we get started then?"

He sighed but finally pushed away from the sour librarian and walked to the girl before him.

"Yes, fine. Let's just get this over with shall we?"

Anzu nodded and smiled, not seeming to mind Marik's frowning. She was probably the type to always look on the bright side of things. Exactly the type of person that Marik couldn't stand.

Lucky him.

Still, he had no other option as he followed her into a private room to start going through his work. It wasn't as bad as he had thought and while she was overly cheerful, Anzu was also patient and by the end he did seem to understand a bit more.

After an hour and a half, Marik began to put his things away as Anzu smiled at him.

"I think that you can make some incredible progress if you put your mind to it, Marik. You're quite intelligent, just need to work on being a bit more open to ideas," she said with a nod. Marik however ignored her and made sure his things were all packed up. Only when he was all organised did he turn back to her.

"When do you want to meet again?"

She thought a moment before pulling out her phone and scrolling through what he assumed to be her calendar.

"How about next Wednesday? Same time and same place. We can get into a more consistent meeting time once we've met a few times. Sound good to you."

Marik nodded stiffly before turning to leave. He heard Anzu sigh behind him and moved to walk with him.

"Hey look, I know that Professor Graves can be sort of strict, but he really is a nice man, you know? He really does care about the students."

Marik stopped walking at that and took in a deep breath before he snapped his gaze to her.

"Look, with all due respect, I don't really give two shits if he's a nice guy or not. I'm here to make something of myself and prove to everyone that I can be my own person. I don't need to be poked or bullied or praised by anyone. I can support myself, and that is all I need."

Anzu looked a little shocked at the outburst but said nothing as Marik inhaled to speak again.

"I'll see you on Wednesday."

And with that he turned to leave.

As he got out to his bike and prepared himself to leave, he took a moment to inwardly scold himself. Why had he jumped down that girl's throat? It wasn't her fault that he had been blackmailed into the tutoring, and she seemed to be just doing the best she could.

Was it just because he was annoyed at the situation and had finally snapped? That hardly seemed fair but it made the most sense.

Maybe he should apologise to her, when he next saw her…and then again, maybe not. She would probably go into another long speech about how he wasn't a bad person. He didn't need any sympathy.

Marik ended up driving home trying to reason with himself and ending up nowhere. But at least he had survived his first tutoring session. And, he had even finished all of his homework so he had the rest of the night to himself.

When he got back to the building he began the long trek up to his apartment, as the elevator had yet to have been fixed. Still, having the rest of the night to himself seemed began to perk up his mood.

As he began to unlock his apartment, he heard the door behind him open and he turned to see Bakura moving to exit. He hadn't seen the other since the night he had run out at midnight looking like a disheveled mess. Now however he looked put together, groomed and in clean clothes though his hair still stuck out in wild spikes.

Marik smirked at him, ignoring his own apartment door for the moment. Bakura was always interesting and Marik had to admit that he enjoyed talking with the other.

"Well you certainly look better than last time I saw you," he said as he folded his arms at the white haired man. Bakura took in the words for a moment as he locked up, smirking.

"Oh? I didn't realise you were so openly gay. Too bad for you, I'm too good for you even if I was gay," he said turning back to face the now flushing Marik. He burned with embarrassment realising how his words sounded when he replayed them in his head.

"I-I am not gay!"

"Nice come back," Bakura said before turning and folding his arms at Marik who only scowled.

"I just meant that last time you left out of here, you looked like you had just rolled out of bed. What, late night booty calls keeping you up?"

He chuckled and smirked at Bakura, turning to finally unlock his apartment. However within a moment, a hand gripped his shoulder and spun Marik, slamming him into the wall. The impact shocked him for a moment and he blinked before looking up into the angry burning eyes of Bakura.

The sight made any smart retorts Marik had in his mind fade away. There was a difference in annoyance and downright rage, and rage was what filled Bakura's features. He pinned Marik to the wall with his arm across the Egyptian's collarbone, gritting his teeth before he spoke in a hiss.

"Don't fucking act like you know anything. You know nothing about me or my life, and that isn't going to fucking change any time soon. So back off."

He held Marik there for a moment before he let him go and stepped back. There was a terse moment between the two men before Bakura turned on his heel and vanished down the stairwell.

Marik stayed against the wall for a while before he finally managed to get his brain in motion and quickly escape into his apartment.

What the hell had that been? Marik and Bakura had been talking, normal bickering and then, Bakura had snapped for no reason. No matter how many times Marik ran his words through his mind, he couldn't come up with any reason why Bakura would have reacted that way. Even as he unpacked his bag and began to prepare a quick dinner, all he could think was that Bakura had overreacted, and that he was hiding something.

Still, Marik had pissed the other off, and he didn't expect to get any answers to his questions any time soon, even though his curiosity burned within him.

He sat on the couch with a bowl of soup, stirring it gently as his mind wandered. It was why he didn't hear his phone ring until the third ring. When he finally did hear it, Marik quickly grabbed it and answered it, setting his soup down.

"Hello?"

"Marik! We were wondering if you were going to pick up," came the familiar voice of his adopted brother. In the background, he heard Ishizu murmuring something about giving Marik some space. But Rishid just laughed it off and turned his attentions back to Marik.

"So how you holding up there, kid? How's school and work?"

He didn't answer right away, taking a moment to send a silent thanks to his siblings. They always seemed to know just when he needed them.

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a kid, unless you want to call yourself an old man."

Marik smirked at his comeback but Rishid didn't rise to it. Instead he just took a moment before speaking once more, presumably about what his call had been about in the first place.

"Listen, Ishizu has been very worried about you – "

"I have not!"

Marik snorted at the voice of his sister and sat back. No matter what, he could always count on his siblings to remain the same.

"She can say whatever she wants to, but she wants us to come over for dinner," Rishid said as he chuckled gently. "We want to see how you're doing, and to catch up. Are you free tomorrow?"

Marik thought for a moment, knowing that he was off of work, and he was actually caught up with his school work. Plus, he really did miss his sister and brother and it would be nice to see them.

"Sure, that'd be nice. But I hope you two aren't expecting me to cook."

Rishid burst into laughter at that before managing to reply, "Of course not, we're not that naïve to believe you've picked up how to cook. We'll make food, so be ready around six."

They exchanged their goodbyes before Marik hung up and moved to pick up his soup. It would feel nice to have a normal evening with his family. And he would enjoy talking with his siblings. More importantly, Marik wanted some advice on what he should do about Bakura –

Do about Bakura? What the hell was he thinking? It wasn't like he was dating the guy! He didn't need any brotherly advice on how to deal with the asshole tenant. So what if Bakura was upset at him? Marik hadn't done anything wrong and he didn't deserve to be accosted for it!

He angrily sipped at his soup, brow furrowed. Marik wasn't going to think about Bakura, nor was he going to ask for help in figuring him out. It wasn't a huge deal, and it certainly wasn't his problem to deal with.

\-------------

The apartment smelled amazing as Marik sat back from the counter. He didn't have a table for his family to eat at but they all pulled up chairs around the island. He was full and happy, smiling at his siblings.

Ishizu and Rishid had come over and cooked traditional Egyptian food that Marik had missed. The smells had driven him wild and he ate like he hadn't eaten in years. Ishizu had that same worried look in her eyes but Rishid seemed happy that Marik was employed and that school was going well. Marik had not mentioned the whole tutor debacle however, not wanting a lecture.

"Thanks for that," he said as Ishizu smiled. Rishid leaned over and slung an arm around Marik's shoulders.

"See this is what you're missing by living on your own! Home cooked meals every night. And better company than you'll ever have."

"Better company my ass," Marik snorted as Ishizu's head snapped up.

"Marik! Watch your language!"

Marik cringed as he realised he'd let that slip in front of the other, however Rishid just laughed.

"Oh let it be, Ishizu. How about you take the tea into the living room while Marik and I clean up?"

She pursed her lips for a moment before nodding and taking her cup and sending a pleading look to both men who threw on innocent expressions.

"Behave you two, please."

Once she had left, Rishid got up and shoved the other up with a smirk.

"Let's put away the left overs and do the dishes."

Marik rolled his eyes but didn't complain as they put the food away. As they began to wash the dishes, Marik washing and Rishid drying, all Marik could think of was how good it would be to have leftovers for days to come. However, Rishid's words broke his thinking.

"Hey, what's got you distracted?"

Marik turned to face his brother, cocking a brow before returning his attention to the plate he was washing.

"Nothing's bothering me. I'm fine, and you're just paranoid – "

"That's total bull, and you know it. I know you well enough to know when you're chewing on something in the back of your mind. And whatever you're thinking about is bothering you. So, spill, tell me; maybe I can help."

Marik winced at that, taking a moment to mentally scold himself. He had to admit to himself that he was thinking about Bakura, though he had already yelled at himself for it. Despite his earlier promises to let Bakura and his issues rest, he couldn't help it. Why had the other gotten so pissed?

He sighed as Rishid eyed him out of the corner of his eye. However, he didn't ask again, simply waited for Marik to gather his thoughts.

"I…met someone here in the apartment that I'm having trouble getting along with."

Rishid paused for a moment before he chuckled and slung that same easy arm over his brother's shoulders.

"That's my flirtatious brother. Only here a few weeks and already you're getting with someone! I've taught you well!"

Marik's eyes widened as he looked up at his brother, mouth gaping a few times before he finally managed a retort.

"Wha-no! He's a guy!"

He threw up his hands, grinning down at Marik as he shook his head.

"Hey, no judgements! You can date and sleep with whoever you want to."

Marik growled, cheeks burning as he slammed down his sponge and turned to glare at Rishid.

"He isn't my boyfriend and I don't want to sleep with him! He's just…well, I don't know if you could even classify us as friends. We've talked a few times, but the last time we talked, he got mad at me and I didn't even say anything offensive."

Hearing the seriousness in his brother's tone, Rishid went back to drying, the smile sliding from his lips as he tried to think.

"Well, what you said might not have sounded offensive in your ears, but it might have struck a nerve with him. You do tend to…well, you say some things that you don't realise are actually offensive."

Marik scowled at that, wondering if saying that Bakura had late night booty calls was actually offensive. Maybe in retrospect he should have realised that…

"Look, my suggestion? Next time you see this guy, don't be a total ass to him. Maybe try to apologise for the way you acted?"

He thought about Bakura and the way the other had acted in the past few times that they'd seen each other.

"I don't think apologising is going to really help the situation. He seems like the type of guy to take those things lightly."

Rishid went silent until they finished washing the dishes, then he turned to Marik as he folded his arms.

"I can't tell you what would make things work with this guy as I don't know him. However, I would try to let him know that you want to fix things. Be the bigger man."

Marik thought for a moment before he nodded and smiled. That smile turned to a smirk as he nudged the other's shoulder.

"You have some good ideas every so often. Thanks Rishid."

"What's taking so long? I could have had the dishes done twice over by now," came Ishizu's voice from the living room. Both men chuckled and rolled their eyes as they moved to walk into the other room.

Marik wasn't sure he knew how to handle things with Bakura, but at least things couldn't get worse…right?


	6. Reconciliation

As Marik left class, books being shoved carelessly into his bag, he looked around at the throngs of people around him. There were groups of friends around, chatting with one another and making plans to spend time together.

And there he was, alone and scowling as he headed towards his bike. He had been living on his own for just over a month and yet, he didn’t have anyone he considered as a friend. The closest person he could even consider close to a friend was an asshole tenant in his building. And they constantly kept fighting when they encountered one another.

However, he hadn’t seen Bakura since that day in the hallway where he had upset the other. So, he hadn’t had a chance to apologise or talk to him as Rishid had suggested. 

Once again, as it always tended to happen when he spent too much time thinking on Bakura, Marik scowled and moved to straddle his bike to head home. Bakura wasn’t worth spending so much brain power on and yet, despite knowing that Marik couldn’t seem to help himself. 

The air had grown colder, much to Marik’s dismay and he shivered until he finally made it to the apartment, heading inside and leaning against the wall by the stairs. He rubbed his hands together for a moment before taking a deep breath and beginning the, by now normal climb to his apartment. No one had fixed the elevator yet and instead of being angry about it, it had just become part of a normal routine.

Once he had finally gotten into his apartment – it was still weird for him to think of it as “home” even though it was his own space – Marik went about making a small dinner for himself. It didn’t take long before he was sitting on the couch with a bowl of left overs and a can of soda. In the moment of lulling and silence, he stared at the wall as he began to think yet again on thoughts he couldn’t avoid.

He just wished he knew why he had pissed Bakura off so badly to begin with. Out of all the things he had said to the other guy, what had made Bakura snap had seemed trivial. 

And yet, he knew he wasn’t the best when it came to people. Maybe there came a point with teasing and poking fun at each other where the white haired asshole drew the line.

Still, he knew that Rishid had given him good advice and he needed the time to follow it through. But that also required being able to find the other to apologise to him and figure out how to fix whatever he had broken.

It wasn’t like Bakura was someone Marik saw often. Despite them living across the hall from one another, the white haired asshole was just as elusive as ever. Marik had tried to listen in the hall, to see if he could hear the other from within the closed apartment, but to no avail. He never saw Bakura in the apartment lobby or really, anywhere. The only place he had seen him with any regularity was in the laundry room.

At the thought, Marik lowered his bowl of food and looked over to his basket of dirty clothes. Was it worth seeing whether or not Bakura would be down there? Was it worth even trying to talk to the other?  
Just the fact that Marik couldn’t seem to let the thought go was, he thought, an answer enough. He just needed to get Bakura to admit he had overacted, and then Marik could let this whole thing fade away. At least, it’s what he told himself over and over again as he finished his food. 

\-------------

Marik took a deep breath as he exited the stairwell. He could hear the machines in the laundry room, a soft sound that floated down the hallway.

Could he really get that lucky? To have Bakura show up on yet another laundry visit?

Well he did seem the type to be, at least in some aspects, a creature of habit. But it wasn’t a guarantee that the person running the machines was indeed Bakura.

Marik steeled himself and finished the rest of the journey down the hall, eyes widening at his luck.

There sat Bakura in the same chair and using the same machines as he had been last time. Other than the change of clothes he wore and the different book in his hands, it was like the other hadn’t moved.

Although, his eyes did flick up when Marik walked in and when they fell on the other, a frown marred his otherwise blank face. 

Well, so much for hoping that this would be easy. 

Marik took another deep breath before he moved over to the other as he began to put his clothes in to wash. When they were taken care of, he sat down across from Bakura and waited for a moment. 

While the pale man continued to ignore Marik, Marik took the time to look over Bakura. Being closer, he could see dark circles painted under the other’s eyes, showing many sleepless nights. His hair that had been disheveled before was in more of a state of disarray like he hadn’t brushed it in many months. 

But overall, Bakura just looked tired. 

At that thought, Marik pulled back a bit and scowled at himself. Like it mattered what the other looked like or if he was tired. Served him right for being such an ass. 

And yet, he couldn’t let the thought go. Maybe he could ask the other about it, if he had the chance to apologise that was.

_Better now than never…_

Marik took a breath before leaning forward and giving the other a short wave.

“Uh, hey Bakura.”

No response came which didn’t surprise Marik. He continued to talk though, knowing that the other could hear him.

“So I haven’t seen you recently around. I wanted to talk to you.”

Silence again, broken only by Bakura licking his finger to flip a page in his book. Anger bubbled up in Marik but he swallowed it down to continue.

“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about the other night when you slammed me against a wall and ran off.”

That got a reaction. Bakura flinched and his hands gripped his book hard enough that Marik wondered about the poor thing’s safety. Glacial dark eyes shot up to look at Marik who recoiled back. He had never had someone look at him with such eyes and it made Marik’s heart stop for a moment.

Bakura, despite looking like he was ready to murder someone, folded his book with calm hands and placed it in his lap.

“Oh please, pray tell, what do you have to tell me about you butting into my business? You annoying the hell out of me until I snap?”

“Hey,” Marik interjected as he folded his arms in front of him. “I didn’t do anything wrong! You’re the asshole who assaulted me just because I spoke to you!”

Clearly, that was the wrong approach to take. Bakura let out a sharp hiss and stood in one fluid motion. 

“You keep your damn mouth shut about things you don’t understand.”

He turned to walk away and Marik realised in that moment that he had fumbled the only chance he might get to apologise to the other. He followed Bakura up and grabbed for the other’s wrist. 

The white head spun around to glare daggers at the cinnamon hand clamped around his slender wrist.

“Get the fuck off of me.”

“No, you stupid asshole. Here I am trying to apologise and you’re throwing a fit!”

Marik saw that Bakura opened his mouth to retort, but when Marik’s words caught up with him, his jaw hung slack and his eyes widened. 

“A…apologise?”

“Yes, you idiot,” Marik said in an exasperated tone, rolling his eyes. “Clearly, what I said upset you the other night and I wanted to apologise. I may not know why it upset you but it did, so…sorry.”

Whatever Bakura had been expecting Marik to do, it hadn’t been apologising. His surprised face showed that much. The room was silent for a few moments, save the gentle rumble of the machines still at work. 

Marik was the first to break the moment, smirking as he leaned closer to the other. 

“If I knew all it took was apologising to shut you up, I’d have used that ages ago. Of course, you’re not much of a conversationalist.”

The edge of Bakura’s lip curled up at that as he looked to Marik’s face. The anger had mostly faded from his expression and the surprise vanished as Marik spoke.

“You’re as charming as ever. However, could you kindly let go of me now? Of course, unless you like hanging over me like a lovesick teenager.”

Marik looked down to where he kept a firm grip on Bakura’s wrist. At the joke, Marik released Bakura as if the pale skin was made of hot iron. 

“Don’t make it sound like I’ve been dying to get my hands all over you. I told you before, I’m not gay.”

“Right,” came Bakura’s response before he shook his head and moved to take his seat. There was a hesitation before Marik moved back to his own seat. 

“So, we’re alright? Like, you won’t avoid me or shove me into walls again,” Marik asked Bakura as he leaned forward again. The smile on the other’s face, as small as it might be was enough of an answer.

“If you can keep your nose out of my business.”

That wasn’t the best, but it was enough of an answer for Marik. He nodded and grinned.

“Fine fine, I’ll try. I just can’t help natural curiosity when people are clearly hiding something. You’re not in the mafia are you,” he asked, cocking a perfectly arched brow at the other. 

That earned a laugh as Bakura threw back his head.

“Hell no. I don’t need to lower and debase myself by getting involved with the likes of the mafia. I’m above that type.”

Marik knew that he should let it go, not push the other just after they had mostly made up, but it had been bothering him just as much as the fact that Bakura had been angry at him. However Bakura seemed to be in a better mood already and Marik felt like he could still tease without ending up back at square one.

“That makes it sound like you know people in the mafia,” Marik said as he folded his arms.

“Who says I don’t? Seems like it’s good to have friends in power, wouldn’t you agree?”

Marik frowned at the other’s words for a moment, wondering if Bakura was serious. But the laugh that echoed through the room a few moments later gave him his answer.

“You’re an asshole. I don’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth,” Marik said as he folded his arms in front of him.

“Good,” Bakura replied as he mirrored Marik’s motion and folded his arms in front of him. “It is unwise to trust strangers.”

“Are we strangers though? After all, you’ve let me into your secret mob boss life now,” Marik responded before he heard one of the machines going off, signaling the end of his load of laundry. He hadn’t had that many clothes to wash and he stood to pull them out of the dryer. When he turned back, he was surprised to see Bakura looking at him with a bemused expression curving his face.

“What? Staring at my ass,” Marik asked, pleased with himself as the quip as Bakura’s lips downturned into a frown and his brown eyes shifted away.

“Trust me, asshole brats are not my type,” Bakura said as he let out a huff. “Why don’t you get out of here already, Ishtar. I’m sick of seeing your face.”

“Sure sure, you say that now. But I bet before long you’ll be begging to have me near,” Marik said as he rolled his eyes and rested his basket on his hip so that he could begin to exit the room. Bakura’s voice followed him as he moved towards the door.

“Keep dreaming, idiot.”

“I’ll see you later,” Marik chimed, ignoring the idiot comment as he grinned. It hadn’t been the smoothest transition, but at least they had made up. Still, for all the teasing, Marik wondered why what he had said to Bakura had upset the other so much. 

Still, they had finally gotten back to decent, albeit shaky footing with each other and he wasn’t about to put that in jeopardy for a little curiosity. 

It wasn’t like they wouldn’t see each other again. And when they did, well, maybe they could get through one conversation without snapping at each other. 

As Bakura’s chuckle slithered up behind him once again, Marik grinned and rolled his eyes. 

Then again, maybe not.


	7. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eesh, this chapter turned into an uncooperative monster and yet I couldn't help but keep writing more, and more, and more. It got huge and terrible until I finally just decided to let it out. So...enjoy?

“C’mon, you never come out with us! It won’t kill you to have one night of fun with your friends! Don’t ignore us again, Marik!”

The Egyptian rolled his eyes and kept his attention focused on sweeping the floor. Every night that he, Jounouchi, Honda, and Atem closed up the restaurant, Jounouchi invited Marik to go out with them after. It usually included having dinner and a couple of drinks. Every time, he would either reject their offer or made some excuse as to why he couldn’t go. However, instead of taking the hints that Marik would rather chop off his own hand than be forced to spend time with the three outside of work, Jounouchi just became more persistent.

“I know you want to let loose and have fun like the rest of us!”

Thankfully, Marik was saved from having to give the other an answer again when Honda hurried over to put Jounouchi into a headlock.

It was how the nights at work always seemed to end, with the two of them roughhousing. Rather than watch the grown men acting like children, Marik just kept on sweeping.

Despite the routine of the night continuing on the same as ever, Marik wanted to break that mold tonight. Ever since he and Bakura had come to a very tentative sort of understanding the week prior, his curiosity about the white-haired tenant had doubled. Marik told himself that he should just drop it so that he didn’t make things worse again…but his resolve never usually lasted more than a few hours before he was curious and wondering once more.

It was why he had a plan for tonight. Atem seemed the most levelheaded out of the trio, and it seemed from his previous evasion that he had the most history with Bakura. Marik was going to find out more about Bakura if it was the last thing he did. Then perhaps he could put the whole issue to rest and go about his life normally.

Making his way over to where Atem was organising menus, he finished sweeping the area before leaning on the end of his broom to speak to the other.

“Those two are as rowdy as ever, hm?”

Atem looked up at the voice, surprised for a moment that Marik was the one instigating a conversation for the first time in a while. However the surprise faded away quickly, a smile overtaking his features.

“Yes well, they’ve been that way since high school. You get mostly used to it once you’ve been around it long enough.”

Marik let out a strained laugh as he moved to start sweeping the trash and dust up. The last thing he wanted were some length anecdotes about the high school lives of his coworkers. But at least it was a good segway into the part of the conversation Marik had actually planned for.

“It’s really…something that you guys have been friends for so long. Ah, but I wonder what happened with Bakura?”

The moment Marik mentioned Bakura’s name, Atem flinched and he looked away with dark eyes. A spark of curiosity lit inside of him at the action, but Marik decided to continue before he lost his nerve and called off the entire thing.

“You guys mentioned that you used to be friends with him, but now you aren’t. I wonder why that is?”

Atem sighed, hands stilling and there was a moment where he wondered whether the other would actually answer his question. However, after a minute of silence, Atem turned to Marik.

“Things just got…complicated with him.”

“Complicated? What do you mean? Last I heard you guys seemed to just…fall out of friendship with each other.”

Atem sighed once again, as if the action could rid himself of the weariness that seemed to have settled over him suddenly. He rubbed the back of his head as he attempted to collect his thoughts, and Marik waited patiently, trying not to laugh as the spikes on Atem’s head seemed to sway. The motion reminded him of a starfish yet again and he tried to keep his composure as Atem continued. 

“Well, that’s not the entire story. Bakura and I, well…we dated towards the end of high school and were pretty close.”

And that shattered Marik’s carefully constructed unfazed façade. His jaw dropped a bit as he moved to lean on the end of his broom.

“No way, really? So then, what, he doesn’t like you guys just because you and he broke up?”

Atem looked away as if the question bothered him, though Marik couldn’t imagine why. Finally, after a whole minute more, Atem finally turned to answer, face twisted into a pained expression.

“That’s not it; he broke up with me because of something else. And then he just…shut down, cut off contact, fell out of our group and our lives. Really, everything started when his–“ 

Atem’s words were drowned out by Honda and Jounouchi’s roughhousing and Marik could have screamed at it. He had been so close to unlocking another mystery of Bakura, finding more answers. But his anger was short-lived.

Jounouchi and Honda’s horseplay had made its way over to them, and they pushed each other without noticing how close they were to Marik. One shove pushed Jounouchi into Marik, the blonde colliding with the Egyptian’s back. The moment the two collided, Marik nearly screamed as pain flashed across his back. His vision blurred for a moment as nausea welled up, rising in the back of his throat. Marik used all his strength to keep himself upright and keep himself from heaving on the floor.

At once, he saw Atem, Jounouchi, and Honda’s eyes fill with confusion and concern. Before they could ask what was wrong or even offer to help him, Marik rushed away. Atem’s voice called out after him but Marik ignored everything.

He wasn’t sure how he managed to get outside and onto his bike, but before he knew it he was speeding down the street. He was thankful that even in an emergency his body knew how to try and get his somewhere safe. Of course, he supposed it matter little how he got out; all that mattered was that he was away from prying eyes and questions he wasn’t mentally prepared or capable of answering.  
How could he explain his reaction to anyone? They wouldn’t understand, even if he wanted to explain about the pain and why he had run away. Even with his father long dead, the bastard’s pain lived on, like a parasite on Marik’s skin.

The entire long, agonising ride back to the apartment building, Marik’s brain kept replaying memories from his childhood. Memories of his father screaming, voice loud enough to fill the entire room and invade every inch of Marik’s mind. Memories of bruises that sent dull echoes of pain through every motion and sleepless nights spent holding back tears because if he let himself cry then he would shatter.

Memories of that night when his father had come into his room, the smell of alcohol cloying and nauseating before he even took a step towards the frightened child. The sharp knife that glinted menacingly in the dim glow of multiple nightlights. The fear in Marik as he tried to run, to escape only to be pinned to the bed under his father rough hands. The rest of the memory was nothing but waves of pain, burning and searing as the knife came down in deep slashes along his back over and over and over again. His father’s voice cut through the haze, the hatred and anger boring into Marik like a knife to his ears.

He cried out as old pain mixed with new, burning like a forest fire along his skin. He needed to get back to his apartment so that he could try to escape the rising panic.  
When he pulled up to park, Marik climbed off of his bike faster than he thought he was capable of. However, it took him a few moments to start moving, fighting back pain with every step.

Of course, the elevator was still out of order; it was an odd passing thought, but Marik was amused that even though his life was turning into a mess in mere minutes that there were things that never seemed to change.

However whatever amusement he gleaned from the moment evaporated as he took long laboured strides towards the stairwell.

Every step sent shockwaves of pain from the bottoms of his feet all the way up and across his back and shoulders. His mind began to helpfully supply the memories to go along with each step, like a macabre soundtrack of each wound.

_“You should never have been born, worthless piece of shit! My unhappiness is all your fault!”_

Marik’s feet seemed to drag, each step draining him of energy as he gripped for the railing in the hopes it would support his climb. However helpful the railing was, the stairs seemed endless and by the time he arrived to the second-floor landing, his breath was coming out in wheezes. Marik wasn’t sure whether or not it was due to his pain, rising panic, or a mixture of the two.

Whatever the case, his legs seemed to give out on him without warning as Marik collapsed to the stairs, holding his head in his hands. He hunched tight, closing in on himself as if the simple action alone could ward off any of the memories. Still, they came and bore into him all over again.

_“You are a disgrace! You are better off dead, stupid fuck!”_

Tears, unbidden and unwelcome rose in Marik’s eyes as hid chest ached from his rapid breathing. He tried to sink his teeth into his lip to gain some semblance of control over the moment but it was a futile effort as the offending tears rolled down his face.

There was no time to break down in peace, as much as he needed to, for a familiar voice filled the stairwell, echoing from below Marik.

“Well, well, can’t climb a few stairs without getting winded? You need to get in shape, Ishtar. I hear gym memberships are relatively cheap nowadays.” 

No, no, anyone but Bakura, not now. Hell, he would rather Atem see him like this, vulnerable and exposed. Marik made no motion to respond or react to the words. Perhaps if he just ignored the other, Bakura would lose interest and walk on by without incident. But fate was pressing and pressing, not on his side as echoing footsteps alerted him to Bakura’s approach. Realising that his words seemed to have no effect on Marik, Bakura scoffed and continued to climb the stairs towards Marik.

“Ignoring me, are you? My how rude! And here I thought we had both come to some nonsensical truce with one another. Don’t go putting us back to square one now.”

Silence filled the air between the two men and he heard Bakura grunt in frustration as his words were met with no rise.

“This is the longest I’ve heard you be quiet, Ishtar. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Marik took a moment in an attempt to compose himself once more before peeking out from behind his hands. It was in time however to see Bakura reaching out to grab onto his shoulder. 

Marik flinched so hard it looked as if a shockwave had overtaken him before he found himself nearly shouting at the other.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

Bakura’s hand stopped midmotion and he hesitated a moment before pulling back. There was a tense moment as brown eyes stared deeply at Marik’s shaking frame. It wasn’t forever however as the white-haired male let out a deep sigh and took a step back, offering a hand out.

“C’mon then; I’ll help you to your apartment. Better than sitting here, right?”

No sarcasm, none of his normal snarky behaviour or words. There was a moment of surprise as Marik took in just how calm Bakura was seemingly acting. 

It took a moment but Marik managed to untense and stand, though he leaned against the wall until his legs were steady enough to hold him. Bakura held out a hand before him, offering it to Marik to steady himself.

It took a few minutes, but Bakura waited patiently, watching Marik with steady eyes. He only began to move when Marik slowly began to ascend, ignoring Bakura’s helping hand. He felt no better than before, but with Bakura walking beside him, Marik felt a strange sense of safety. As if Bakura’s mere presence could keep the memories that threatened to overwhelm Marik at bay.

They arrived to the third floor before long and Bakura stood back, allowing Marik space as he searched his pockets for his keys. Once he found them and opened the apartment, Marik turned to Bakura and gave him a curt nod.

“Thanks for walking up with me, but I’m fine now. So you can–"

His words were cut off however as Bakura walked past him and into the apartment beyond. He stared after the albino for a few moments before he stepped in and closed the door with a mutter.  
“No, by all means, please come in. Make yourself right at home.”

There was no way Bakura could have heard his words but he acted as though he had, wandering into the kitchen. Still in immense amounts of pain and feeling more worn out than he would like to admit, Marik remained standing by the door. 

The way Bakura was acting made him feel more like the guest instead of the apartment owner.

He remained standing until Bakura appeared around the corner of the kitchen doorway, frowning at the blonde.

“Sit on the couch already. And where do you keep the kettle?”

“Kettle?”

Bakura scoffed before disappearing back into the kitchen, voice raising as he continued his search.

“You know, metal thing meant for heating up water, usually for tea.”

“I know what a kettle is, asshole,” Marik snapped before he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and continued.

“What I want to know is why you’re tearing apart my kitchen looking for my kettle. I already told you I’m fine and I don’t need you to stay.”

“Why else would I be looking,” came the reply and Marik could practically hear the eyeroll in every word. “To make tea. It’s helpful for calming you down, especially when you’re shaking.”

Marik prepared to snap at the other, tell him that he wasn’t shaking, but as if Bakura’s words had opened his eyes, he realised that his hands were trembling. It made him feel weaker than he had before and he moved to press his hands against his torso to force them to still.

There was a moment he hesitated before Marik moved to sit on the couch. He heard more banging from the kitchen before a sound of triumph sounded as Bakura had successfully completed his quest for the kettle.

The shrill voice of the whistling kettle filled the apartment before long and Bakura reentered the living room holding two mugs. He handed one to Marik and seated himself on the same couch with his own mug.

The silence that filled the room was a comfortable one, and Marik would have been content to sit there for a while and sip at tea…but his back still ached and would persist if he didn’t try to soak it or try to relax it.

However Marik couldn’t do that while Bakura remained; he didn’t want Bakura to know what had happened in his past and if he stayed he would have questions.

So instead, he remained silent, sipping at his tea as he attempted to relax as much as he could with the other male sitting beside him. He had nearly finished his mug when Bakura finally spoke, agitation lacing his words.

“So after being such a courteous gentleman, bringing you to your apartment, you won’t offer me any sort of explanation?”

Marik turned a glare on the other, setting his mug down on the coffee table.

“I did not ask for your help. So the way I see it, I don’t owe you a god damn thing.”

“How cold! That sure shows me being nice is a perfect way to get penalised.”

Sarcasm dripped from Bakura’s words and his grin did nothing to infuriate Marik further.

“I’m glad this is all a game to you. Look, if you’re going to be an asshole…well, more of an asshole than you usually are, then you can just get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Bakura held up his hands in a show of fake surrender, his grin only widening.

“Damn, you’re so crabby when you’re upset. Calm down, Ishtar.”

“I am calm,” he snapped in a most assuredly uncalm voice. Bakura huffed at the stubbourn male and stood without warning. As he began to advance on Marik, the blonde jumped up and began to back away as fast as he could. He felt unsafe as it was and the way the other advanced on him made Marik feel like prey under a predator’s gaze.

When he felt his back hit the wall, Marik cried out and grimaced, closing his eyes as new pain wound with old. Normally his back wouldn’t have been so sensitive, but when it was hit hard enough, it radiated pain for hours after, even at the slightest touch.

When Marik finally opened his eyes, he was surprised at the look on Bakura’s face. No snark or normal smug satisfaction marred his features. Instead his face was calm, eyes sad as he looked over Marik. When he spoke, the words were calm and quiet.

“Jesus Marik, just let me help you. I’m not going to hurt you, promise.”

Perhaps it was the quiet words, or the way Bakura’s brow wrinkled attractively that made it all seem so believable. Whatever the case, Marik hesitated for a brief moment before he finally nodded and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding in.

“Alright.”

Bakura let out a gentle breath before he nodded and leaned away to give Marik a bit of space.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

Marik took a moment to push away from the wall, walking towards the couch as he answered over his shoulder.

“Go get a towel from the bathroom and soak it in hot water. Then bring it and some more hot water back here.”

If the request was confusing or strange, Bakura didn’t ask and Marik offered no explanation. The white-haired male simply nodded and headed into the bathroom.

Marik situated himself on the couch, making sure Bakura would have plenty of room to sit behind him. When the pale man returned with the items that had been requested, Marik patted the couch next to him, beckoning to Bakura.

“Bring that over here and take a seat.”

Bakura once again obeyed silently, putting the bucket of hot water on the coffee table before sitting and returning his gaze to Marik. After a minute of silence, he cocked a brow, opening his mouth to say something. But, Marik held up a hand to silence the other.

“Don’t. Just…be patient, please. This isn’t easy for me.”

Bakura’s mouth closed and he gave a curt nod before falling back into silence. The calm demeanour threw Marik, and it was the other’s patience that finally allowed him to exhale and start to position himself, back facing Bakura.

“Before we start…know that I’m not prepared to talk about the things I’m sure you will ask about,” he warned before he cautiously peeled off his shirt, revealing his back.

Silence filled the room like smoke, a choking lingering thing. He could feel Bakura’s eyes staring at his back, the stare heavy enough to feel as though fingers dragged over each scar.

For that was what marred the otherwise flawless bronze skin. Long jagged scars, some deeper than others that crossed like macabre lattice work. They spread from his shoulders all the way down the full expanse of Marik’s back.

To his credit, Bakura was able to remain silent for a full minute before his words seemed to burst from him, like water from a dam.

“Christ, what the hell happened to you, Marik?”

With effort, Marik managed to twist around, wincing in pain before he trained a vicious glare on Bakura’s baffled face.

“I told you, I’m not ready to talk about it, so if you can’t listen to that simple thing then you can get the hell out of my–“

“Alright! I won’t ask,” Bakura interjected, throwing up his hands in a show of surrender. The two stared at each other for a half minute before Bakura continued in a quieter tone.

“Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.”

Marik sighed deeply, feeling exhausted as he turned his back to Bakura again.

“Take the towel and soak it in the water before gently laying it over my back. When it gets hurt, I usually need to soak it to start making it feel better. Sometimes, using the cloth and laying it on my…scars is better though. And it can be helpful to have someone else help to reach everywhere.”

Bakura remained silent, his own hesitation taking over him for a moment before he soaked the towel and rang it out before laying it over the other’s back. Marik hissed in pain as the sudden heat and towel on his scars made the pain flare to life tenfold.

Immediately, Bakura pulled the towel back, asking, “Are you alright?”

Marik tried to pull some bit of calm from the deep breath he inhaled before he nodded.

“I’m fine. It hurts, but it will feel better before long. It usually does, anyway.”

Bakura nodded unseen to Marik before he replaced the towel once more, gentler than before and the motion caused confusion to stir in Marik. But as the heat brushed his pain, the Egyptian’s teeth gritted once. He used every ounce of his strength to remain quiet, keeping the pained sounds inside himself.

Bakura seemed to take the silence as a good sign as his hands started to move the towel in gentle soothing motions.

The longer Bakura worked, the more relaxed Marik became as his tense body seemed to visibly untie itself from the knots of anxiety it had gotten wrapped up in.

But things were still hazy in Marik’s mind and the longer Bakura stayed, the more confused the blonde became. After yet another minute of silence filled the space between them, Marik decided to risk the peace and sate his curiosity.

“Bakura…why…why are you doing this? Why are you staying and helping me?”

He expected an immediate scoff, some sort of excuse that the other had only come along to make fun of and irritate Marik. However, what he got was silence followed finally by even words.

“I honestly didn’t expect you to be able to make it up to your apartment on your own. I don’t think you realise just how near passing out you looked.”

There was a pause before Bakura continued, grin evident in his words even without seeing it.

“But you owe me big time for all this trouble, you know. Two or three steak dinners should about cover it.”

Marik’s own smile lifted his expression as he looked over his shoulder, eyes glimmering mischievously.

“Asking me out, are you? My, who knew that allowing you to play the knight in shining armour would turn you on so much.”

Marik grinned when Bakura’s pale cheeks became painted with a faint blush, his own grin turning to a jagged frown.

“Who the hell said anything about a date, idiot? I meant that you can go and buy them for me and deliver them to my door.”

“And do I look like I’m made of money? Find something else to fantasize about.”

There was a moment of stillness before both men burst into laughter at one another. If anyone had walked in on the moment, they would have written the two off as insane. But after the night he had gone through, Marik could have used a little insane.

They weren’t at it long before their laughter died off. Bakura managed to get himself under control before Marik as he gently began to peel the towel off of his skin.

“Do you want me to soak it again, or…”

Marik shook his head and slowly began to stretch out, assessing how he felt as the pull of the muscles in his back ached, though not in a bad way. 

“I think I’ll be okay. I feel better, at least enough that I can sleep tonight. If I can spend a few hours resting then I’ll be okay come the morning.”

He turned back to Bakura before grabbing for his shirt and the bucket so that he could begin to clean up.

“You really are okay to head out now. I won’t pass out or anything like that, trust me.”

He moved to dump the water in the kitchen sink before returning, surprised to see Bakura sitting on the couch still.

As he began to open his mouth to retort, brow furrowing in frustration, Bakura cut in and interrupted the other’s oncoming rant.

“Look, I get that you’re not really open to talk about this, but really you can’t blame me for my curiosity. What the hell happened to you? Who or what did that to you?”

At once, Marik felt conflicted; he could very well tell Bakura about what his father had done to him, but it was a terrifying thing. Never had he opened up to anyone, not even his own siblings who would understand more than anyone. It was inconceivable to think about opening up to Bakura, especially considering the other’s temperament.

After the torrent of quick thoughts speeding through his mind, Marik made up what he planned to say and moved closer to Bakura, leaning against the wall where the other sat on the couch.

“I’m only going to say this once and if you bring it up after this I will make sure you regret it. You clearly have your secrets that I have learned not to pry about, and I have my secrets that I expect you to respect as well.”

Despite the exhaustion clawing deep lines down Marik’s face, his violet eyes were aflame with anger that had been smoldering for longer than the evening he had been through.

And those eyes seemed to be enough. Bakura looked into them for a long while as they stared one another down. But a switch seemed to flip without a moment’s notice as Bakura broke his gaze away.  
“Alright, I get the point. I have your secrets, you have yours. I won’t pry anymore. Besides…”

He took a moment before that natural Bakura grin fell back into place, pose relaxing in an instant, as if poking fun at Marik was his favourite way to wind down.

“You’re no fun to tease if you get crabby about it and snap back. And I like my entertainment to be fun.”

Just like that, all of Marik’s worries seemed to melt away. The casual teasing was the best medicine and he couldn’t help his smirk.

“Yeah yeah, enjoy teasing me while you can. I’ll get you back for it. Now get the hell out of my apartment. If you keep hanging around, someone might get the wrong idea that you actually like spending time with me.”

“In your dreams, Ishtar,” Bakura said, standing and quickly flicking Marik in the forehead before he chuckled and made his way to the door.

“Remember, I want those steaks,” he reminded the other, winking at Marik as he slid out of the apartment like a phantom. Once he was alone, Marik slumped onto the couch face first so as to leave his back free of irritations. He felt like someone had popped a hole in his body and the longer he laid there the more his energy leaked out of him.

It had been a hell of a night, one he didn’t want to relive any time soon, but one that had had its good moments as well. It had been more than a surprise that Bakura had been so civil. Well, as civil as he could be. The more that they encountered one another, the more that the blonde felt the wall between them chipping away little by little.

But he couldn’t trust him with the story, not yet. No matter how close anyone got to him, Marik felt like the story of his scars was a small part of him that remained under lock and key. If anyone knew that about him, he would be seen as weak. After his past, he couldn’t afford to let anyone have that power over him. Not even a tenant that he was really warming up to.

He had intended to crawl his way into bed, but the longer he laid there the more exhausted he became until sleep dragged him under with greedy hands.


End file.
